Sunday II
by Lost in the Forest
Summary: Songfic for Sunday II by Cibo Matto. Dramatic, Romantic, dancing. Can involve almost any two people you want. I saw Draco and Hermione. Enjoy.


A/N: Song- "Sunday II" By Cibo Matto. Corresponds to "Sunday I." I suggest both. The end, though, only makes sense if you've heard the song. It just slows down and winds to a stop. It puts me to sleep every time. I love it.

Characters- Well, with the right editing, this could cease to be a fanfic. I might have to do that. Other wise, the characters, places, things, etc. belong to JK Rowling. Thank you for letting me use them. I promise I'll return them as good as before, if but a little worn.

"Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born/When at your hands did I deserve this scorn" Borrowed from Shakespeare, from A Midsummer Night's Dream. He'd turn in his grave, I'm sure.

Thanks for reading this. I needed to get it out of my system and out of my brain. I appreciate any review I get, as always.

-Lost in the Forest

_Why can't we dance in the same groove every day?_

He had chosen me to dance. Just me. Not Pansy Parkinson, in her tight, low cut, green dress. Not Cho Chang, in a dress as blue as the midnight sky, the sky of the enchanted Great Hall. Not Parvati Patil, in her tastefully glittery, dark red dress. Not Hannah Abbott, dress in silver with subtle gold accents. He had chosen me. Me.

We were dancing the waltz, very simply. We glided along the floor as though we were angels, dancing on the head of a pin. 

Neither of us said a word. It would have ruined it all; for no kind words had we ever exchanged. We just relaxed in each others arms, pleased to be here, now. Nothing else seemed important.

_My step starts from 6 to 1, from 6 to 1, _

We slowly waltzed in a circle, eyes sightless to the rest of the world. Did they see us dancing? Had they stopped and circled around us? Were they whispering in awe, or standing in stunned silent? We danced like we were alone, and to us, we were.

_You make fun of my honesty_

I wanted to tell you that I loved you now. Maybe not love. I wanted to tell you that I don't hate you, not really. Perhaps we could get by all that. Perhaps we could be equals. Friends. Lovers?

But then again, this could be a trick. You could be fooling me. Perhaps I'm just a jest to you. A game to play. A puzzle piece to work into place. Why would you do this? Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Could it be true, that this is nothing but an act worthy of the Globe Theater?

_But I think consciousness is the same in space... in space..._

There are tears now, dripping down my cheeks. I didn't notice till I tasted them on my lips. They were bitter tears, like lemonade made with salt, not sugar. Could everyone see them? Would they know why I was crying? I had in my arms an enemy. I didn't hate him anymore. I never would be able to, ever again.

_I'm living in the second world, I'm watching, watching you from the second world_

When the song is over, we will part. We won't look in each other's eyes. He won't acknowledge my tears, and I won't acknowledge his last, departing sigh. We will break apart and go to our separate tables. I won't glance over when he dances with Pansy and he won't glare enviously when I dance with Dean Thomas. When my classmates ask me what it was about, I'll deny that it ever happened. He'll do the same. When we leave this room, everything will be the same as it always was.

But things will never really be the same. We will make sure we don't look at each other at the ball, but afterwards...

I look at you during Potions. Nobody noticed. You were in the library, peering at me through the books. I saw you. I was daydreaming in the Great Hall and my eyes wandered to you. I know you saw me. 

I can't concentrate in class any more. I burned a hole in my cauldron. Snape blamed Neville. It was me.

You're different too. I've never seen you spend so much time in the library.

_Don't complain about it, baby, I can not be perfect for you_

We'll both be fine, after a few weeks. My friends will stop commenting on how dazed I've been lately, and yours will note how perfectly cruel you're acting again. My grades will rise back to normal. I felt like it was hell, but now I'm back on earth. We were never meant to be, it seems. It was just the ambiance; it made us feel something that wasn't there. We both knew it wasn't there. There will be someone for us both, someday. I'm not worried. I'm not afraid.

_Still learning every Sunday, I just spend. I just spend...every Sunday... every_

But that's weeks from now. Today, right now, in this moment, I'm still worried. I'm still afraid. What will we go through together? Will it be worth it? Do you love me? I want you to say that you love me, but we can't talk yet. Not yet. We're still dancing, gracefully. The song is slowing. It's slowing... slowing... sl... ow... ing...


End file.
